In the House of the Maker
by MarcoDelMarco
Summary: Fenris should learn not to wonder the streets of High Town alone at night. Lucky for him a certain cheese-loving, hair-obsessed king was there to save him. As they take refuge in the Chantry who knows what...events may transpire between them?


**In the House of the Maker**

"Teagan, who was that elf with Ser Hawke?"

"The broody one with the strange tattoos and the battle ax or the mage that got distracted by your shiny armor?"

"Tattoos."

"Ah, well your Highness, I don't know. He wasn't mentioned in the dossier I received about Ser Hawke. Strange, seeing as the captain of the guard, that androgynous red head woman who kneeled before you, was the one who made it."

"Yeah, I saw her punch him in the arm when they were leaving. Weeeeird…."

"If I may, why do you care?"

"Oh," The King of Ferelden smiled to himself, "No reason."

Teagan, being use to his king's sporadic ramblings about cheese and talking dogs, shrugged off his sort-of nephew's strange inquiry. They only had one more night left in the city of chains before returning home to meet the Queen. She slaughtered hordes of homicidally insane monsters and a demigod dragon, so she surely would be able to rain in her husband. Surly.

Midnight in High Town is not exactly the safest place in Kirkwall, to say the least. Between guard pretenders and that pack of crazed "silent" women it's no wonder every noble's house has bared doors and windows. Yet, despite (or perhaps because of) this obvious danger, a lone man was walking the shadowed streets.

Fenris could hear both the drunken cries from the Blooming Rose in the distance and the light pat of his bare feet on stone as he made his way past the Chantry. Winter was coming, he could tell by the cold of the pavement and the fact that his breath was turning as silver as his hair. He normally would never make the trip to his mansion alone at night like this, but he just had to leave the Hanged Man. Even with the four pints of ale he and the dwarf had put away he couldn't stand to watch Hawke and that…mage together. What did he see in that whiney, cat loving bastard? This sudden burst of slightly drunken anger made his cursed marking glow for an instant, and that was all it took.

"Alright elf," a gruff female voice said accompanied with the telltale sound of a blade leaving its scabbard, "Hands in the air."

Fenris sobered quick like only having seven Silent Sisters surrounding you can do. He weighed his options in his mind as the gruff voiced bitch made a move for his pocket. He could easily stain the steps of the Chantry with her blood, maybe even take down a few of her comrades as well, but he knew he could not take on this many people by himself. And where there was one group of thugs another could not be far behind. But just as he was about to come do a decision about potentially giving High Town a fresh coat of red the decision was made for him in the form of a sword being plunged through the chest of one the Sisters from behind.

"Oh I'm sorry! I didn't see you there. I was just taking a late night walk with my drawn sword for no reason when I tripped into your vital organs. I'm clumsy like that."

The smirking blond monarch then pulled his blade out of the unfortunate bandit, gripping it firmly for pending strikes. Before Fenris could express either his shock or gratitude however, there was a scream as a dozen more gang members who must have been lurking in the shadows suddenly made themselves known. With a burst of glowing energy the elf quickly ripped out the heart of the thug who was closest to him before sprinting towards his savior. Alistair, slightly alarmed by the charge, felt a wave of relief when the elf grasped his wrist and yelled "Quick, the Chantry!" rather than ripping his guts out.

With the Silent Sisters swarming at their heels, the two men flew up the stone steps to the Maker's house, and ran though the doors before instantly throwing down the heavy oak bar to lock them. They could hear a pounding as the gang tried to break in the door, but to no avail. The Chantry was built to weather anything short of an Archdemon after all.

"They won't leave until the guards come out in the morning." The elf said taking a seat on back most pew, "So we're stuck here until they do."

As he said this Fenris had his usually broody sneer on his face. He blew a strand of silver hair out of his face and stretched his taunt body across the bench, and turned to his companion who, unlike him, could not but help grinning ear to ear.

"Why are you so happy?

"I find the architecture of the Chantry lovely. The buttresses really speak to me."

"Humm…indeed."

"Oh don't thank me so very much for helping you back there. Chocolates really are too much, but if you really want to." The blond man smirked again and sat on the bench opposite the elf.

"What? Oh! Yes, err, thank you. I-wait a second."

"Problem? Oh Maker, is it my hair?"

"You…you're the king of Ferelden aren't you? What in Andante's name were you doing in High Town at midnight?"

The elf's eyes grew wide at the sheer unlikelihood of the situation he found himself in. Alistair stood up, rubbed his bum, and began to take off his heavy armor. At this Fenris's mouth became just as wide.

"Sorry, the damn stuff chafes if I sleep in it." He said as he was stripped down to a chainmail that just barely covered his short clothes. "And like I said, I was just out for a walk of course. What else could a King possibly be doing wondering the streets alone?"

"That's what I'd like to know."

"Well, since you insist, I was watching you."

"What?"

"Well, while I've been in town I've been renting a house around here, lovely place. Though it's buttresses aren't as nice as these…where was I? Oh yes, well for the last few nights I've seen yoOOooou skulking around at night from my window. Being the curious king that I am, I decided to investigate. And…well…" He trailed off, running his fingers through his hair, he lifting of his arm also lifting the chainmail revealing a glimpse of abdominal muscles.

"Well what?" The elf sat up and crossed his legs to cover his…interest in that glimpse.

"Well…I watched you because you remind me of a 'friend' back in Ferelden. He was also an elf, and was a very…good companion."

"Oh really now?" Fenris's broody gaze grew bolder as it traveled across his new friend's chest. "What was his name? I've got some friends from your country, maybe they know him."

"I doubt it. He's an assassin."

"I'm friends with a pirate, an apostate, and a beardless dwarf with crossbow fetish. Try me."

"Good point. His name is Zevran and-"

Fenris did not hear the rest of Alistair's explanation, because he had heard it all before from Isabella. Zevran was raised by whores who apparently taught him a thing or two; skills she claims he makes use of with many, many people. He had been saved because he reminded the king of an Antivan man slut. Fantastic.

"-though I haven't seen him in awhile. I assume off meeting interesting people, and that he then sticks daggers in their throats shortly after. Hey, why are you so-" This time the Fenris did not hear the rest of what the king said because he was sticking, not a dagger, but his tongue down his throat.

Alistair was, understandably, surprised by this sudden action by a man he barely knew, but as the elf's tongue intertwined with his he didn't care. The only person he had been with since their adventure had ended was his wife, and he craved the touch of another man. Just as he was closing his eyes though the elf broke away.

"So I remind you of a whore do I?" he said in his deep, penetrating voice, "Ok, then I'll be your whore. And Maker spit on anyone who's got a problem with that." And with that he pulled off the young king's only remaining armor.

Fenris relished Alistair's hungry gaze as he too took off his own armor, all except the wrist plates; they he never took off. They remained as a reminder to never let any man be over him…so to speak. And if Hawke wanted to have a threesome with the mage and the guy who lives in his head, then by the Maker he would have some fun himself!

"Wow! This night it totally going better than I expected." Alistair said as he began to massage the growing budge in his undergarments, "I thought it was all downhill after I stabbed that bitch in the ally."

"Umm…"a dark sultry crossed his lips, "you can stab me in my ally, your majesty."

With his armor gone, the Ferelden could see that those exotic, erotic markings did indeed go all over his companion's body. They gently twisted and turned, even around his most intimate areas. The moon light shone in through the Chantry's windows, illuminating his lean yet muscular frame while making his hair shine. Here was a beautiful warrior before him, and he was ready for another type of battle.

Fenris stepped over his battle ax, got in his knees before the king, and pulled down the strip of cloth that was concealing his royal scepter. With one eye hidden by his hair, the elf looked up at the grinning man before him briefly before getting to the task at hand. The former slave had served his master well and often, and had picked up certain skills that Alistair soon found rivaled even those of his Antivan assassin. Though a smile rarely crossed it, the muscles of Fenris's mouth were delicate yet powerful as he pleasured the tall blond in sultry silence.

Alistair let out a moan so deep he could feel it reverberate in his heavily muscled chest as the tattooed man's head bobbed rhythmically up and down upon his member. As he was feeling the familiar tingles of climax approaching, the elf suddenly stopped licking his lamppost. He was about to protest, but Fenris put a finger to his lips to silence him, before he slid himself onto his lover's lap.

The elf took a deep breath, and exhaled it slowly as he lowered himself down upon the rod he had wetted with his lips. There was, as always, a slight pain at first. But soon his training had learned from his master, as well as several visits to the Rose, took hold and the pain melted away; replaced by pure pleasure.

Alistair adjusted his position on the pew before he began to gently pump up and down with his thighs which had been toned in the heat of battle. Fenris was gripping him by the shoulders, and as the speed of the thrust increased so did the tightness of that grip. The elf and the warrior soon found their rhythm and were bouncing in perfect sink, the echoes of their passion reverberating off the cold stone walls of the Chantry.

Fenris's breathing grew fast and hard. He could feel the cock throbbing within him, almost pulsing with lust. He loved how full he was, like he was being filled with heat and energy with each thrust he took. In that time the world melted away. There were no slave hunters, no gangs, and no cat loving mages. There was only him, the beautiful man he was riding, and the Maker.

The elf could tell by the look on his fuck mate's face that he was once more close to climax, so with a burst of energy he began to writhe up and down with new vengeance, making Alistair cry out for Andraste to guide him. His breathing was now so hard and loud, and as in the ally the surge of emotion cause the Lyrium in his skin to shine. The two young men were illuminated in a mystic, low blue glow as Alistair pumped the final lust thrust within Fenris before in a blinding wave of passion he released inside of him an orgasm the likes of which he had never experienced.

Feeling the king's seed shoot inside of him, Fenris too reached the peak of pleasure and erupted a torrent of warm love juice all over his companion's chest. And as the light from his markings slowly faded, Fenris leaned in and gave the king one last deep, deep kiss.

The sun rose above the city of Kirkwall and streamed into the Chantry through the wide windows at the large, stone Maker's back and fell up the sleeping forms of two sleeping naked bodies wrapped in each other's arms. The gentle rays awoke the young king who then in turn gently awoke his lover with a kiss on the neck.

"I do believe it's morning finally. We better get dressed before the priestesses come in and I've got an exalted march on my hands."

"Yes, having the divine declare a holy war against you would put a damper on the morning. The gang surly has gone by now…" Fenris stood up naked in the sun, the light showing the whole of his masculine beauty, "And I suppose you'll have to leave."

Alistair too stood up and took a step closer to the man he had slept next to. He leaned in and embraced him in a deep, heartfelt in his muscular arms.

"Yes…I do, but," His boyish smirk returned, "If you're ever in Ferelden look me up." He winked at the now blushing nude elf, "I'd love to pick this up again"

And with that the two men dressed and parted ways, neither one knowing if he would ever see the other again. All they knew was that they had shared one long, beautiful night together in the house of the Maker.


End file.
